


Flip the Switch

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Quarantine 2020 [4]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: COVID-19, Canon Compliant, M/M, POV David Rose, Post-Canon, TikTok, but luckily it's a character in his 30s trying to understand tiktok memes so it works, in which the 30 year old author tries to write about tiktok memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: Patrick has picked up a new hobby in quarantine. David hates it — until he doesn't.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Quarantine 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716373
Comments: 42
Kudos: 162





	Flip the Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reese_Taylor27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reese_Taylor27/gifts).



> I blatantly stole this plot bunny and ran with it. I hope it's something like what you were imagining! I'm still not sure exactly where it ended up on the fluff-crack continuum.
> 
> I feel kind of bad that this isn't porn like the rest of the Quarantine series, but... it's set in quarantine, so it's going here anyway. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

David is feeling neglected.

No, not neglected — misled. Duped. Betrayed.

You think you know someone. Enough to trust them with your roasted marshmallow heart, enough to do your elaborate skincare routine in front of them, enough to  _ marry _ them. And then you find yourself in quarantine with them and you realise you don’t know them at all.

David glares in Patrick’s general direction. He can’t glare  _ at _ Patrick, because Patrick is turned away from him, buried in his phone. David feels the jealousy surge through him as Patrick’s face scrunches up with laughter before he swipes his thumb up the screen, and the now-familiar sounds blast out of the tinny phone speaker.

_ “I’m bored in the house and I’m in the house bored.” _

So, okay. Maybe it’s a tiny bit irrational and over-dramatic to be jealous of a social media site. It’s just that… well, Patrick is a thirty-something adult with a husband and a successful business. He’s not exactly the target demographic of TikTok — before quarantine he had a Facebook account he updated about three times a year and an extremely neglected LinkedIn profile. And yet here he is, scrolling mindlessly through this stupid app,  _ in their bed. _

This is all Alexis’ fault; Alexis and her “You have to meet the customers where they are, David, and that means social media!” Frankly, David thinks he’d already done plenty of compromising by setting up a Rose Apothecary web store despite online shopping being totally contradictory to the immersive experience they’re trying to provide, but then he had let Alexis twist his arm even further and set up an Instagram account for the store. He had point-blank refused to reactivate any of his old social media profiles and eventually, Alexis relented. If David had realised that by not indulging her she’d get into Patrick’s ear he might have thought twice, but now it’s too late. Now David has a husband who spends his downtime watching videos of teenagers doing stupid dances and moms joke/not joke about how much wine they need to drink while their kids are out of school.

Luckily, he’s still got a trick or two up his sleeve to get attention. He slides a finger up the outside of Patrick’s thigh from knee to hipbone and is rewarded with a small hitched breath; by the time he lets his fingers wander along the crease of Patrick’s hip the phone has been dropped on the floor and David is being pushed back into the mattress.

* * *

The second time David wakes up the next morning, it’s late and Patrick’s not in bed — which might be a good thing for the day’s productivity, given what they got up to the first time they woke up. Eventually, David unearths his pyjama pants tangled up in the sheets and wanders through the house until he finds his husband in the kitchen, tea steeping while he leans back against the counter, scrolling through his phone.

David hides his eyeroll by closing his eyes when he leans in for a kiss, and then forgets to be annoyed when Patrick hums happily as he deepens it. The timer on Patrick’s phone interrupts them and he pulls away to finish making his tea, brushing his free arm against David’s before sitting down at the table. David fixes himself a coffee and by the time he joins his husband again, Patrick’s attention is back on his phone.

“And what is Gen Z up to this fine morning?” David snarks.

Patrick’s voice is carefully neutral. “You know, it’s not all bad. There’s a couple of these I think you’d actually have fun doing with me.”

A snort escapes David before he can stop it. “Oh my God, ew. No thanks.”

“Okay, David,” Patrick says, and David immediately feels like an asshole. Because this isn’t Patrick’s fond, indulgent, my-husband-is-ridiculous-and-I-love-it voice; it’s his people pleaser voice. His ‘I’ll get the spray tan’ voice. His ‘I’ll go on a date with Ken’ voice. His ‘I’ll move to New York because you love it’ voice. David has been trying so, so hard to be a better husband than this, and it’s been a long time he’s heard that voice from Patrick over something so minor.

He wars with himself for a minute. The wounds of his old life, of being called too dramatic, too embarrassing, too  _ much _ no matter how small he tried to fold himself down, are long scabbed over by now, but they still sting when poked too hard. On the other hand, Patrick has always been there to soothe them. And it’s not that he never laughs at David — in fact, he does so with alarming regularity — but not once has he done so cruelly.

“What do you want me to do?”

Patrick shrugs, not meeting his gaze. “David, you said you didn’t want to, so you don’t have to. It’s not a big deal.”

“Exactly,” David says. “It’s not a big deal, and I’m pretty sure when we got married I promised to support you making an idiot of yourself on the internet. So let’s do it.”

Patrick grins. “I don’t recall that exact line in your vows,” he says before reaching out and squeezing David’s hand. “Are you sure?”

David nods quickly before he can change his mind. “It’s not live, right? We can re-record it if I horribly fuck up?”

“It’s not live, no,” Patrick says. “But I think the fun is in the reactions to this one.”

“Okay…” David says slowly, but no further information is forthcoming. 

“Go get dressed while I have my tea,” Patrick says instead and David gets up obediently, kissing Patrick on the temple before he heads back to the bedroom.

Once David’s dressed and his hair is carefully done, he comes back out to find Patrick propping his phone up on the dining table. He drags David over to one wall before glancing back at his phone, going back to it to fiddle with the angle a little bit until he’s happy, before coming back to stand opposite.

“We’re going to face each other, side on to the camera,” Patrick says. “It’s a ‘never have I ever’ game, so you hold up all your fingers, and then put one down each time they say something you’ve done.”

David raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how much fun this game is without alcohol, but sure,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling so Patrick doesn’t think he’s serious.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no mention of Jared Leto on this one, so you’re probably safe for now,” Patrick volleys back. He presses a button on his phone then dashes back to the wall before David can respond, holding both hands splayed out in front of his chest. David mirrors the pose and waits for instructions.

_ “Never have I never, gay edition. Let’s go,” _ comes out of Patrick’s speaker, and David’s eyes widen dramatically.

“Oh God,” he whispers, and Patrick grins back at him, eyes laughing.

_ “Never have I ever been to Pride.” _

David rolls his eyes and drops a finger. Patrick shrugs and pouts, mugging for the camera a little.

_ “Never have I ever been outed.” _

David winces as Patrick folds one finger down, smiling reassuringly at David as he does so. It’s been long enough that this particular scar isn’t fresh anymore, but there’s still a little bit of guilt on both sides. David doesn’t move — if anything, he has to out himself as not-gay rather than being outed as not-straight.

_ “Never have I ever downloaded Grindr.” _

Down goes one of David’s fingers — and so does one of Patrick’s. David can feel his eyebrows trying valiantly to climb off his forehead at this new and slightly alarming information but Patrick just smirks at him, not offering any explanation.

_ “Never have I ever hooked up with somebody off of Grindr.” _

David folds another finger, watching Patrick’s hands closely. Patrick twitches one finger and laughs out loud at the look on David’s face, but ultimately his hands stay how they are.

_ “Never have I ever taken it.” _

They both tuck a finger down. Patrick turns to the camera and exaggeratedly mouths “Last night” while pointing at David. 

David narrows his eyes. “This morning,” he tells the camera, gesturing dramatically back towards Patrick. If he hoped to embarrass his husband, though, it doesn’t work; Patrick just nods and looks smug.

_ “Never have I ever given it.” _

Again, they each drop a finger, David waggling his eyebrows dramatically. David’s down to one hand now, and he lets the other drop to his side

_ “Never have I ever been in a serious relationship.” _

David wiggles the finger his wedding ring is sitting on before dropping it. Patrick pretends to think for a second, laughing at David’s look of outrage before he also tucks his left ring finger down.

_ “Never have I ever been a sugar baby.” _

David feels his mouth twist to the side as he tries to imagine the reaction if he’d ever tried to be a sugar baby in his New York days.

_ “Never have I ever been to a gay club.” _

David folds down a finger. Patrick doesn’t. They should really fix that — long, long after lockdown is over.

_ “Never have I ever dressed in drag.” _

David folds down a finger. Patrick doesn’t.

_ “Never have I ever painted my nails.” _

David folds down a finger. Patrick doesn’t. This is why he hates Never Have I Ever.

_ “Never have I ever dyed my hair.” _

David only has one finger left so he’s glad for something he hasn’t actually done. He’s surprised to see Patrick put down the first finger on his second hand, though, and resolves to get the story out of him later.

_ “Never have I ever experienced homophobia.” _

David lets his remaining hand fall to his side as Patrick’s eyes go soft. They don’t talk about this much, safe in the overly accepting bubble that is Schitt’s Creek.

_ “Never have I ever known all the lyrics to a Nicki Minaj song.” _

David brings his first hand back up with the thumb already tucked away as Patrick drops another finger down as well. There’s a bit of Nicki on their road trip playlist.

_ “Never have I ever done PDA.” _

The entire town could probably answer that one for them, David thinks, as they both hide a finger.

_ “Never have I ever been called a gay best friend.” _

Neither of them moves. Patrick looks quizzically at him, but the truth is David had never been called anyone’s anything best friend, until Stevie. Which is… still really depressing.

_ “Never have I ever lived off coffee.” _

David folds a finger down, surprised when tea-obsessed Patrick does the same.

“Grad school,” Patrick says, and — ah, yeah. That makes sense.

_ “Never have I ever had accepting parents.” _

Patrick smiles down at his hand as he closes it into a fist, and David tucks a finger down as well, leaving him with just one. How many more questions can there be?

_ “Never have I ever gotten a crush on a straight guy.” _

Patrick flushes all the way under his shirt.

“Come on, big guy,” David murmurs as he drops his hand. Patrick shakes his head and huffs as he raises his left hand back up, only four fingers upright.

_ “Never have I ever been played by a straight guy.” _

They shrug at each other. After a moment they realise the game is over and both start laughing before Patrick gets a chance to press pause. His eyes are dancing when he looks back at David.

“Regrets?” he asks teasingly.

“No, that was fun,” he says, and means it. “When did you dye your hair, though?”

Patrick squirms. “Grade 12. Hockey championships. Our captain decided frosted tips would be a good luck charm.”

“Were they?”

“We got trounced and I had to cut most of my hair off before prom,” Patrick laughs.

“Sounds attractive. And Grindr?”

“I deleted it after an hour,” Patrick admits, wrinkling his nose. “Figured waiting to work up the courage to ask you out would be better.”

Later, Patrick shows him the video, and David is surprised to realise he has no qualms at all about it going on the internet.

* * *

“I’ve created a monster,” Patrick grumbles several days later as he kisses the back of David’s neck.

Patrick had tagged their video something called “FYP” before he uploaded it, and they woke up to a stupid number of likes and comments. And sure, David’s grown a lot as a person in Schitt’s Creek, but he’s never claimed not to crave validation, so.

He’s stopped short of downloading TikTok on his own phone, preferring to lean on Patrick’s shoulder and watch him scroll through instead. The reason Patrick is complaining now, though, is that for the second time David has stolen his phone to upload a video of his own. 

“You knew what you were getting into when you married me,” David counters absently as he selects the best filter for the quick shot of his engagement and wedding rings sparkling in the sunlight streaming through their garden. He types out his caption before hitting ‘Post’, and by the time the video is winging its way into cyberspace Patrick has settled down next to him on the bench.

“I did,” he murmurs, soft and fond. He brings both hands up to David’s face and kisses him deeply, grinning when David melts into it. David barely registers one hand releasing his jaw until Patrick’s phone is suddenly being snatched out of his hand.

“Rude,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. It’s hard to feel affronted when Patrick insists on kissing him like that. Instead he presses into Patrick’s side as his husband absent-mindedly navigates back to the For You page.

They watch a few videos, and Patrick is just about to scroll again when David places a hand on his wrist to stop him.

“We should do this one,” he says quietly, and Patrick pulls his head back a little to stare at him.

“This one? Really?”

David shrugs. “It would be fun.”

“It would,” Patrick says, lips curling into a grin. “But you know you’d have to let me—”

“Mm-hmm, yep,” David interrupts quickly. “I hope you appreciate what a sign of trust this is.”

“Oh, I do,” Patrick says, toeing the line between teasing and unbearably sincere. “And you also realise that to really lean into the meme, we’d both need to—”

“Yep,” David interjects again. “I think — you first, me at the end.”

“Okay, David.” And there it is. The fond, indulgent, my-husband-is-ridiculous-and-I-love-it voice he’d missed the other day. “Now?”

“When it’s dark, I think,” David says slowly. “Otherwise the light—”

“Yeah, good point.”

* * *

After dinner, they get changed. David insists Patrick take his outfit and get changed in the bathroom, ignoring his protests of “I’ve seen it all before, David!” 

He’s gratified when he walks into the bathroom a few minutes later and gets to see Patrick’s eyes immediately darken. He’s wearing the Saint Laurent sweater and Neil Barrett jeans he wore the day after their first kiss, and all these years later the combination still has an  _ effect _ on his husband. David is so enjoying the way Patrick’s tongue is dragging across his lower lip as he blatantly looks David up and down that it takes a moment to register what  _ Patrick _ is wearing.

“You’re evil,” David says, pinching a fold of the Blue Jays jersey suspiciously.

“It was the only thing I had that wouldn’t make you look like a youth pastor,” Patrick replies blandly, and David narrows his eyes.

“You and Stevie spend too much time together.”

Patrick just laughs. “Ready?”

“Yep, yes. I need your phone for this first bit, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Patrick says, handing it over. David takes a few minutes to set it all up while Patrick paws at his jeans.

“Later,” he smirks, and at Patrick’s pout, amends: “Soon.”

“Okay, David,” Patrick says, settling into place. David checks the phone screen before starting the recording.

The now painfully familiar Drake beat fills the bathroom. David keeps as still and stoic as possible, but he can’t help his mouth quirking up a little at the corner as he watches Patrick boogie along.

_ “I just flipped the switch. Flip—” _

And David hits the light, plunging the bathroom into darkness, then the pause button a millisecond later, the glow of the phone he’s holding the only thing that lets him see his husband’s smile.

“Strip,” Patrick says firmly, and David can’t suppress the shiver that runs through him at the tone.

“We’re finishing the video  _ first,” _ he insists. “In fact… you should probably go get changed in the bedroom. I’ll pass the clothes out.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but complies, pressing rather closer than the space actually requires to move past him and out the door. David flicks the light back on so he can see and peels off the sweater before wriggling out of the jeans. He folds them carefully before opening the door, smirking when he sees Patrick standing there also clad only in his underwear. They swap bundles without a word and David closes the door again.

He hadn’t actually looked at Patrick’s bottom half before, too distracted by the sports jersey, so he’s relieved to realise Patrick was wearing sweatpants that are a little long on him. He yanks those on first before gingerly picking up the jersey, sighing as he pulls it over his head, careful of his hair. It’s itchy and a little short, and he tugs the sweatpants up a bit higher to compensate.

Patrick taps on the door, and David taps the phone screen for light before flicking the light back off and opening the door. The phone is sitting on the counter, the glow emanating from it pointing up at the ceiling, so he can’t really see Patrick very well as they maneuver themselves into place, the opposite of where they were before.

Patrick picks up the phone and checks that it’s all set. 

“Ready?” he asks.

David grins. “As I’ll ever be.” 

Patrick presses the screen.

_ “—flip”  _

The lights come on a fraction later, and David blinks at the sudden visual assault. Then he has to swallow hard, because Patrick, staring back at him in the mirror with his pupils blown, is a  _ vision. _ The sweater looks good on him — amazing, actually — but that’s not what catches David’s attention; instead, his eyes are drawn lower, to the way those catcher’s thighs fill out an item of clothing that isn’t designed to have a lot of room to begin with.

He’s never going to be able to wear these jeans in public again.

David lets a cocky smirk slide over his face before he does one long body roll, with a sensuality fit only for nightclubs, to the rest of the song.

_ “I don't know nobody else that's—” _

The clip ends and Patrick’s thumb hits the screen before he places the phone down carefully. As soon as it’s out of his hand he’s pushing David back into the wall and crowding around him, kissing him frantically, fingers tangled in his hair. David shoves one hand into Patrick’s back pocket — and he has to really shove,  _ goddamn _ — while he tries to take his own shirt off with the other.

“Leave it on,” Patrick growls, catching David’s lower lip between his teeth as he rolls their hips together. Suddenly David doesn’t hate the jersey anymore.

* * *

The next morning, Patrick films what David later learns is called the ‘Nakey Challenge’, and David doesn’t even ask to approve the video of his reaction before it gets posted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
